


Ready, Set, Launch

by BlackPolaris



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dancing, Established Relationship, First Kiss, How Do I Tag, I can't write accents, M/M, Native American/First Nations Culture, SO, Unofficial Date, and they're competitive, i think that applies, otherwise we wouldn't have the space race, these two really like rockets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackPolaris/pseuds/BlackPolaris
Summary: Russia and America have recently entered a tentative relationship. But if there's one thing they agree on, it's that rockets are cool! Russia invites America over to build model rockets, but it ends with an unexpected kiss. Barely established RusAme. Inaccurate portrayals of national relations. But who cares, I just wanna see these two build rockets.
Relationships: America & Russia, America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Ready, Set, Launch

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed the last dancing fic I did (“That Ball on Friday”) so I decided to do another one! Different ship, same premise…
> 
> Barely-established RusAme on an unofficial date! Enjoy~

“Hey, Russia! Dude! It was really awesome of you to invite me over for the day!” America’s loud voice crowed from the door, the country himself strolling in casually. “Man, I’m so pumped! It’s been forever since we’ve done something like this together! I brought you something to commemorate it!”

“Da, it has been a while.” Russia smiled. “I got you a gift, also.”

“Oh, sweet! What is it? I swear, if it’s another burger, you’re too late dude, England already gave me one earlier- Well, he actually threw it at me, but who am I to turn down free food-!” America was cut off when an _ushanka_ was shoved on his head.

America pulled the hat off and looked at it. The furry Russian hat was black with gray fur inside. The front was adorned with a rocket - a rocket with the Russian flag stitched on it, that is.

America barked a laugh. “Nice, dude! I got you a hat, too!” The American pulled a baseball hat out of his backpack. Rather than rudely slamming it on the Russian’s head, he simply handed it over.

 _“American Rocket Scientist,_ America?” Russia frowned at the red, white, and blue text on the hat.

“Come on, you Commie, I’m wearing yours!” America laughed. The expression on Russia’s face only made America laugh harder.

The Russian slowly put the hat on. “This means war, _Fredka.”_

“Oh, pulling out the real names, _Ivan?_ You’re on!” America smiled tauntingly. “I’ll build the best damn rocket you’re ever gonna see!”

“Um.” A timid voice spoke up. The two countries’ heads whipped to see a small employee shaking where she stood, holding a single box. She spoke in shaky English. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Volkov c-couldn’t come drop this off h-himself, so u-um…”

 _“Spasibo,_ miss.” Russia took the box from the girl, who nodded and scurried out of the room quickly. Russia opened the box, then glanced up at America. “First come first serve, isn’t that right, capitalist pig?”

“Sharing is caring, commie bastard.” America snatched the bigger rocket out of the box, sticking out his tongue playfully.

Russia hesitantly returned the gesture. America grinned.

“You _do_ have a sense of humor!”

Russia glared at the American, muttering something in Russian under his breath.

“I’m not sure I want to know what you said.” America decided. He held out a hand. “May the best country win?”

_“Da.”_

And so, the second space race began. America swiftly cut his box of parts open, and dumped them over the table. Russia was a little more methodical, laying out each piece on the table. Neither of them paid the instructions any mind: America even threw his into a nearby trash can.

Neither country said a word, fully immersed in their projects. Russia’s went up quickly, despite him having to duck down to retrieve several pieces that rolled onto the floor. America only had to do that once, despite his chaotic workspace.

Soon enough, silence was broken by soft humming.

_“Hmm~ Hm-hmmm…”_

Russia jerked out of his intense focus. “Fredka? Why are you singing?”

“Hm?” America glanced up in surprise. “Oh, was I too loud? Sorry, it’s kinda quiet in here, I’m not used to that…”

“You can play music if you want to, America.” Russia said.

America smiled softly. “No, dude, it’s okay. I know you prefer it to be quiet.”

Russia’s gaze lingered curiously for a moment before he returned to his project. “...If you insist, Fredka.”

They returned to their work. Shortly after, America started humming again. Russia didn’t say anything, simply listening.

It was a nice song, unlike anything Russia had ever heard before. It reminded him of the Aleuts’ songs - or was it the Eyak? It was too long ago, Russia couldn’t remember. It wasn’t quite the same, but it was similar.

“What are you singing, America?”

“Wha- Oh! Was I doing it again? Sorry, dude!” America frowned as he failed to fold the parachute properly again. “This song’s just stuck in my head. It’s a song of victory from the Lakota tribe. Native America used to sing it to me and Canada…” America smiled sadly. “I’ll have to ask Canada if he remembers the words…”

“Can you not simply look it up?” Russia asked curiously, securing the cone to the top of the model rocket. He grinned happily. Now all he had to do was paint it.

“Nah. It got lost to time.” America sighed, finally getting the parachute correct. He tied the strings to the cone, then carefully put it in place. He just had to put the fins on, then paint it.

“That is a shame.”

“It is, isn't it?!”

The conversation died down as Russia opened the cabinet of spray paint. Both countries were fine with that. America continued quietly humming his song. Soon enough, America joined Russia in painting his rocket.

Russia painted his rocket a lovely purple, tiger-like stripes of black and green breaking the solid coloring. America painted his rocket blue with a red buffalo head on one side and a white bear head on the other.

Russia finished before America (something the Russian gloated over -- the American insisted his rocket was better anyway). They put the paint back in the cabinet, the set out to wait for their rockets to dry.

_“Hmmm~ hm-hm hmm-hm hm…”_

America blinked in surprise, looking up at the Russian. Russia smiled at the look on the shorter country’s face. “Is that right? _Hm-hm hmm?”_

America’s eyes widened and he blushed faintly before carefully averting his eyes. “Uh… that’s pretty close, actually.”

Russia smiled in a self-satisfied way. He offered out a hand to the younger country, a clear invitation. America took the offered hand, curious and happy to follow along with whatever Russia was doing. The older country moved one hand forward and the other back, then reversed direction, over and over, slowly getting America to twist his body to the beat. The blond quickly figured out what he was doing, then eagerly followed along. Eventually, America started humming along with the Russian.

Their voices clashed a little, and Russia was off a little, but America couldn’t help the large grin spreading over his face.

Russia lifted an arm, allowing America to do a little spin. During the spin, America was struck with an idea. As he returned from the spin, he used the small amount of momentum to jump up and give Russia a quick kiss. He landed with a bounce, a small blush joining his happy smile.

Russia’s humming abruptly cut off. He looked down at the young country in surprise, a soft blush also on his face.

America’s smile faded a little. He tugged on the _ushanka_ until it was hiding his expression. “Oh. Did I break you? Did I misunderstand? I messed up again, didn’t I? Ah, sorry, typical America! Jumping to conclusions-”

Russia cut off the nervous American by surging forward and giving him a fierce kiss. America’s glasses slid up the bridge of his nose and his new _ushanka_ almost fell off his head. His eyes widened in surprise before sliding shut, and he melted into the kiss. Too soon, Russia pulled away, panting.

“The rockets should be done drying by now, _da?”_ Russia smirked.

“Y-yeah,” America squeaked. He looked away, face red. The young country cleared his throat and fixed his glasses, then pointed a determined finger at the Russian’s face. “I-I bet my rocket will go higher than yours!”

“We shall just see about that, Fredka.”

They took their rockets out to a large field. America prepped the launchpad, and Russia added his fuel to his rocket, which he confidently named _Pobeda_ \-- “Victory”.

“You first then, Russia! I still need to add fuel to mine.” The two walked a safe distance away before America handed over the remote for ignition over to the larger country, who took it with a grin.

 _“Tri, dva, odin.”_ Russia pushed the button.

_Fwoosh!_

For a moment, the two just watched the rocket climb higher and higher. Not too long passed before a colorful parachute appeared above the rocket, beginning the voyage back to Earth.

“Whoa! You got some altitude on that thing!” America watched the rocket fall in awe.

“Are you afraid that you will lose your bet, America?”

“No way dude, my rocket will totally out-distance yours. Besides, there weren’t any stakes, it’s just for fun!”

“We could add stakes,” Russia suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still for fun. Or are you scared?”

“I’m not scared! Tell you what, the winner gets to tell the loser to do something!” America said. “Nothing political, of course, my President might actually kill me if I do something like that again!”

 _“Konechno,_ America. It is a deal then.”

America set up his rocket, affectionately named _Native,_ while Russia went to go retrieve his. By the time he came back, America was ready to go.

Russia passed over the ignition button. America gleefully took it and pressed the red button.

“No countdown? You are very impatient, America.”

“I know! It’s part of my charm!”

The rocket soared into the sky until a bright white parachute popped out.

“...Looks like I win!” America crowed. “My rocket totally went higher than yours!”

 _“Da._ What will it be then?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, the stakes!” America thought about it for a second. His cheeks went slightly pink, and he adjusted his glasses, embarrassed. “I, uh…”

“Come on, Fredka.”

“I want you to kiss me again!” America turned bright red.

…

“You know, I finished building mine first. Perhaps I am the winner then.”

“Just shut up and kiss me!”

Russia happily obliged.

**Author's Note:**

> A wonderful first date -- launching rockets. Really, what else do you expect from the two countries who lead the space race.
> 
> Geez, I’m really that single, huh...
> 
> This was a little OOC, but I'm not perfect and I'm tired.
> 
> Tell me what you think! Check out my other stories!
> 
> Appreciate you all! ~BlackPolaris


End file.
